settling for less is the war
everyone's trying to flee from,

but in fact,
settling for less is
an extra shot of espresso
in the coffee that we
drink each morning
in an attempt
to avoid being alone
for the rest of the day.

my old name is dead
but i'm afraid to bury it

I wash my hands
as the Rome burns to the ground
I smoke a cigarette at the balcony
as the city goes in lockdown

my city
my city
It's a ghost-town.
my people
my people
I am lost without.

i always have
the urge to run.

but what is it like
to be a tree?

to be confident enough
to root yourself
and grow with
wild abandonment,
being unapologetically
you?

i'm still running,
but i wish i knew.

the rain taps his
drumming song
on my windshield
but even he cannot
drown out
the sound of your
absense